


Seven Years

by lionsuicide



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's POV, Dean-Centric, M/M, Mentions of almost cutting, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsuicide/pseuds/lionsuicide
Summary: Once I was seven years old, my mama told me"Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely"Once I was seven years old.....





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the song Seven Years by Lukas Graham.  
> I will be editing the song to fit the story.  
> I hope you enjoy.

_Once I was seven years, my mama told me_  
_"Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely"_  
_Once I was four years old..._

When I was seven years old my mother died in a house fire. They said it was faulty wiring or something. I don't really remember. I was only seven. What I do remember is her telling me I had to go outside and play. To go outside and play with the other children. To go to day care and make friends. I asked her why and she responded because if I didn't I would be lonely, and no one wanted to be lonely.  I didn't understand her then, I was OK with not sharing my toys and not having to follow someones else's rules to play a game. I understand what she was saying now. 

_It was a big big world, but I thought I was bigger_  
_Pushing myself to the limits, I was learning quicker_  
_By eleven smoking herb and drinking burning liquor_  
_Never rich so we were out to make that steady figure_

After my mom died, my father became an alcoholic. He would drink away his problems. It was just me and Sammy.  I could tell from a young age that Sammy was going to be something. He was smart and only getting smarter. It was a shame because my father never saw it. He could only see the bottom of the beer bottle. By the time I was eleven I took my mother's advice and made some friends. Unfortunately for me they were the wrong kind. They were older and into bad things. I was smoking weed they had and stealing the beer from my refrigerator and drinking it with them.  I wanted to fit in so bad. They gave me attention. Attention my father failed to give me. To me they were family. They fed me, gave me money and stood up for me against the bullies in my class. Sammy didn't like them, I thought he was just being a bitch who didn't want me to have a life outside of him. I should have listened to him. They told me they were going to rob some store, I told them I was in. I got caught and they left me to take the blame by myself. I went to a juvenile center for a couple months. I didn't make any new friends for awhile after that. All I had was Sammy. 

_Once I was eleven years old, my father told me_  
_"Go get yourself a wife or you'll be lonely"_  
_Once I was eleven years old_

One rare day when my father wasn't drunk out his mind, we sat down and had a semi normal dinner. He showed interests in Sammy's education and social life. He ignored me but I was OK with that. Sammy was the one who needed his attentions, not me. Out of nowhere he asked me how I was. I wasn't expecting it. i told him it was fine and that i made some friends. He just nodded once. I thought that would be the end of it. He looked back at me and said that eventually I would need to find a wife and settle down. He said if I didn't I would be lonely. In that moment, I felt true sadness and pity for the man I called father. Sometimes I forgot my father lost just as much as I did, if not more in that fire. I lost a mother; he lost a wife, his best friend, his everything.  

_I always had that dream, like my daddy before me_  
_So I started writing songs, I started writing stories_  
_Something about that glory just always seemed to bore me_  
_'Cause only those I really love will ever really know me_

One day my father was drunk and he told me when he was younger he wanted to be a musician. I asked him why he didn't follow through. He said his father wouldn't let him, being a musician was a dream, a fantasy. Real men worked in the garage, at a factory, anywhere where they used their hands and labored through the day. He gave up his dream and started working in the garage. He told me that's what he expected of me. At the time I agreed. As time went on and I got older I realized I didn't want to follow in his footsteps. Behind close doors I started to write down songs that came to mind. I started to practice the guitar at school. I wasn't doing this because I wanted fame. I wanted to show my father that being in the music business was as honest job just like being a laborer would have been. My teacher found out about my secret, he asked me to perform in a small cafe called The RoadHouse. Originally i turned him down, but a couple days later I told him I would do it. I wasn't happy  with going down the same path as my father. I preformed and the crowd loved me. The lady who owned the bar asked me if I could come back weekly. I said yes. i did that for a full year before my father found out. The day he found out, he flipped out. He screamed and threw punches. He told me if I didn't stop he would kick me out. I would be on the streets. I packed my bags and left. He never truly cared about me. As I was leaving Sammy came and gave me what what little money he had saved up and told me good luck, that he believed in me and to keep in touch. He was the only one who mattered. They only one who truly knew me. 

 

 

_Once I was twenty years old, my story got told_  
_Before the morning sun, when life was lonely_  
_Once I was twenty years old_

The owner of the bar, Ellen, heard what happened between me and my father and gave me a place to stay and a job. I was the new bus boy and entertainment on the weekends. It wasn't ideal but I made it work.  I became the talk of the town. A beautiful voice, a pretty face, talented, ect. It was nice but I was still lonely. My mom and dads's voice always came to me "make some friends or you'll be lonely, get a wife or you'll be lonely" They were right. I got some fame, money, and I was content, but it didn't mean anything without someone to share it with. I had Sam but it wasn't the same. One day after my show at the RoadHouse while I was talking to Sam, a man approached me and asked me if I ever thought about becoming a professional musician. I said sure but I wasn't going to get my dreams and hopes up just to have it all fall through. He handed me his business card and told me he could help me rise to fame, all I had to do was call him when I was ready. He winked and walked away. His card read Crowley MaCleod. We researched him and it was legit. I called him three days later. I haven't regretted it yet. 

_(Dean Winchester!)_

_I only see my goals, I don't believe in failure_  
_'Cause I know the smallest voices, they can make it major_  
_I got my brother with me, at least he's in favor_  
_And if we don't meet before I leave, I hope I'll see you later_

I worked harder than ever, failure was not an a option. It was my time to shine. I had to prove my father wrong. I was doing well for awhile but soon these tiny voices in my head started to talk down to me. Telling me I was going to fail, that I wasn't good enough, that my father was right. One day it got so bad that I had a panic attack in my room. I grabbed a razor and was about to start cutting at my wrist, but Sam stopped by before I could. He was my rock in my time of need. He stayed with me for a while after that but eventually he had to go back to his own life. I was OK with that. I went on tour and he went to Stanford. 

_Once I was twenty years old, my story got told_  
_I was writing 'bout everything I saw before me_  
_Once I was twenty years old_

I started writing about my feelings. I made them into songs. Who knew people liked songs written from the heart. I certainly didn't. People loved hearing about the struggles I had as a child and growing up.  I don't know how I should feel about that. I realized at the ripe age of 26 that I preferred men. I started dating a fan of mine. Castiel Novak was his name. He was beautiful, still is. With him and Sam by my side I wasn't lonely anymore. I was actually looking forward to the future.  I'm not sure how the future will go or if I'll be famous still. What I do know is that I'm happy with my life in this moment. I got married to Castiel when I turned 29. Sam cried at the wedding.  _  
_

_Soon we'll be thirty years old, our songs have been sold_  
_We've traveled around the world and we're still roaming_  
_Soon we'll be thirty years old_

_I'm still learning about life_  
_My husband adopted children with me_  
_So I can sing them all my songs_  
_And I can tell them stories_  
_Most of my boys are with me_  
_Some are still out seeking glory_  
_And some I had to leave behind_  
_My father, I'm still sorry_

We adopted two boys, Adam and Michael. Every night I would make up stories and sing it to them. I wonder if they'll follow in my footsteps when they are older or if they'll follow their own dreams. Whatever they choose to do I will support it. 

_Soon I'll be sixty years old, my father got sixty-one_  
_Remember life, and then your life becomes a better one_  
_I made a man so happy when I wrote a letter once_  
_I hope my children come and visit once or twice a month_

_Soon I'll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold_  
_Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?_  
_Soon I'll be sixty years old_

_Soon I'll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold_  
_Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?_  
_Soon I'll be sixty years old_

 

My father died. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't make myself mourn for a man who was never there, never supported my dreams, kicked me out for not following in his footsteps. The man who never got a chance to know his sons or even his grandsons. I went to the funeral for a final goodbye because that is what was expected of me. There were a grand total of four people who showed up and me and Sam were two of them. I didn't realize my father had it that bad.  I pitied him when i was younger and I pity him now. I hope he's resting in peace with my mom. Sam and I left after his coffin was lowered down into the ground. I hope I never get to the point in life where I am a bitter old man who hates the world and all who live in it. Somehow I am confident that I won't be. 

_Once I was seven years old, my mama told me_  
_"Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely"_  
_Once I was seven years old_

_Once I was seven years old_

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read.  
> All mistakes are my own.  
> Love it? Hate it? Leave a comment below.


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